The Butcher of Gadobhra

Baron Tobias Chintzworthy, Lord of Northguard, Protector of the Northern Territories, and veteran collector of bugs, was having a bad morning. In a stunning betrayal, moths had gotten into his clothes closet, and his 2nd best robe was full of holes. Robes three and four had been used by his seamstress to patch his best robe long ago. That robe had now given up any semblance of being threadbare clothing and transformed into a pile of thread and scraps. Wearing his pajamas and a partial robe, he roamed his apartments aimlessly. All hope had deserted him. His collection was gone, and he had finally admitted to himself that most of it had never existed. If they were real, the collector that had pillaged his collection would never offer to return them.

None of the teams he had sent to collect the gorgeous specimen from Baron William's lands had returned. And for all of their promises, Alchemarx had also failed. He had hoped for that, actually. He wanted them to clear land, build farms, and then fail on their end of the bargain so he could reclaim his lands and move the peasantry to better farms to increase his profits. The old farmland could then be turned into pasture. Now he was without the joy of collection, without the specimen that would have been the crown jewel, and strangers had taken some of his lands. His mind had slowly worked through these things as he had sat day after day in his rooms, too depressed even to eat.

Deep in his heart, something stirred. Not much, just a little knot of anger, envy, and spite. But that was enough to get him moving. He was going to do something he had promised his grandfather he would never do. That made him smile. He'd always been curious. The old man had shown him a box made of jade, carved with runes spelling out horrible curses and threats. "Our Houses legacy, but a terrible thing that nearly destroyed us before, and certainly will destroy us if ever opened."

"Then why keep it?" His twelve-year-old hands had itched to open the box.

"Because someday, one of our line will be betrayed, angry, or depressed enough to use it. I certainly don't have to worry about that, and I won't take away someone else's chance to burn down the world. It's going into the main vault with the rest of our precious things. I only show it to you because you will be Baron someday, and this is too important to forget and too dangerous to be out where someone can steal it."

Into the vault, it had gone, and there it had stayed. His grandfather had died, and his father had become Baron. Tobias had finished his studies and made two long expeditions into the jungles of the south to expand the family collection. He was upset when a third expedition had to be canceled when his father died. He was now stuck in Northguard and would have to pay people to do his exploring. He found the duties of being a Baron boring. He took in the taxes, paid a few bills, tossed some excess into the vault, and spent the rest on his collection. He left the rest up to the Legion Commander or his Chatelain.

With the decision made, PinchPenny felt better. What good was a vault of valuables if a man didn't have a collection of pretty bugs pinned to his walls? He went to a series of rope pulls. They had been made of silk when he was a boy but had deteriorated and torn, one by one. He'd had them replaced with ordinary rope. The bells sounded odd as he pulled the cords, and one failed to make any sound at all. He awaited visits from his chatelaine, guard captain, head housekeeper, master of the hunt, and head groom. A half-hour passed with nothing happening. He pulled all the ropes again, several times. Only the cord for his chatelaine had been used for over a decade. Through the small holes in the ceiling that the ropes were threaded came dust, feathers, and bird droppings. The silent bell still only gave a clunk instead of a ring.

Finally, the door opened, and a younger man entered. "Sorry, M'lord. The guard said you wanted me?"

Pinchpenny didn't know this face. "Who the hell are you?" His visitor was over six feet tall and well-muscled but lacked the grace of a fighter. Homespun clothing and a currycomb on his belt hinted at his position in the castle.

The boy grew nervous. "I'm Hoss, sir. I groom the horse and donkey and take them for walks to keep them active."

"A groom? Where is the head groom?" And why had his guardsmen sent this boy? He was obviously younger once he started speaking. Just large for his age.

"Oh, he's gone. That would be my father."

"Gone? My condolences to your family. I appoint you as the new Head-Groom."

The boy nodded his head and smiled. Theoretically, his wages had just doubled. "No condolences needed, my lord. The bastard ran off and left me to care for my mother and two sisters."

Pinchpenny saw the flash of anger and hurt. Good. He should be angry. He was still mad at his own father for dying too young and sticking him with the job of running a barony. "Go find me the Cook, Captain of the Guard, House Keeper, Hunt Master, and Chatelain."

The boy sighed. He knew the Baron hated bad news. He was about to be fired. "The bitch of a cook is who my father ran off with. All of your guards except Bruno and Fat John have quit or gone to work with the Legion. I think Bruno is the smarter of the two, but Fatty is meaner. The Chatelain is passed out drunk. He found some wine hidden in the basement. And I don't think we've had a Hunt Master in ten years, sir."

The boy turned to leave, seeing the anger on his Baron's face. "Can your mother cook at all, boy?"

Hoss turned back. "She can cook groats, mutton, soup, and eggs. She burns bread, and gravy is a mystery to her. It's peasant fare, sir."

PinchPenny thought she was perfect. "Tell her she's now head cook. Your sisters are in charge of housekeeping. Move your family in and tell her I want boiled mutton for dinner and groats for breakfast. If the chatelaine is drunk, search his room and find where he hides the valuables he steals from me. Keep one part in six for your wages and use the rest for food. Don't worry about the anything else. I can find the stairs on my own."

Hoss thought over what he'd been told to ensure he understood and then got to work. He started with the chatelaine. The man hadn't been bad to him, but he hadn't been good either, and Hoss didn't like how he looked at his sisters. There were bad rumors about Frederick the chatelaine and unproven accusations from prior years. Complaints were made, but the baron didn't care, and nothing had come of it but resentment and a slow exodus of household staff. Hoss made sure to take a heavy metal candle holder with him. Snoring came from the chatelaine's room. Hoss entered slowly and opened the door wide to get in more air. The old man was dead drunk and had been sick at least once. Many wine bottles and piles of dirty pewter plates and goblets littered the room. That solved the mystery of where all the castle's dinnerware had been disappearing to. Cook had constantly complaining about it.

Searching the room was nearly impossible. It overflowed with trash. He rolled Freddy up in the filthy blankets and dragged him to the hallway. Two other blankets were spread out, and dirty dishes went on one and trash on the other. Slowly he cleaned the bedroom and moved to the small study and closets. He found a cloth bag with an odd assortment of items on the desk. Four silver pieces, a small broach, and a hair ribbon. Another bag was found in a drawer. This one had a cheap silver ring, a pair of tiny socks, and a bit of red yarn. The closets were stuffed with clothing. And not just the chatelaines. All sizes and colors. Piles of stuff loaded in the back in no order.

After moving two heavy chairs, he rolled up the large rug and looked underneath. Flagstones had been removed, and a wooden chest fitted into the floor. Excited and unknowing of traps and spells, Hoss yanked it open. There were luckily no traps on it. Inside were more bags, a pile of gold, silver, and copper coins, a jeweled tiara fit for a baroness, a sword of state, and five dolls. The dolls were old and threadbare, passed down through families—the things you gave to small children. The bags held ribbons, locks of hair, and small wooden toys.

Hoss straightened up and left the room, needing air. Shaking himself, he looked at the still-sleeping man. He straightened up the bed, put the man back into it, and then put his hand over Frederick's nose and mouth. The old man woke, struggling for air but couldn't budge the groom's thick arm. Hoss didn't know how long it took to kill a man, so he didn't move his hand for a quarter-hour. The trash he left, but the dishes he put in the kitchen and then found his family and had them get to work. He kept all the money, not trusting his mother to buy food. He'd deal with the merchants himself.

Hoss brought dinner to the Baron that night and gave him an accounting of the castle. Pinchpenny was unmoved when he informed him of Frederick dying in a pool of his vomit. "One less person to pay, and one less mouth to feed. I don't need a Head Groom as much as a Chatelain. Do the job, and I'll give you another raise. Find some urchin to take care of the horses."

There was a seamstress that did work for the Legion. He took some of the chatelain's best clothes down to her and paid her to make him two sets in his size. She was happy for the work and happier for the silver piece he gave her. They'd smiled at each other for years. Two weeks later, he moved her into the castle and appointed her Head Housekeeper, to his younger sister's annoyance. He and Fat John had a talk down in the stable one night while Bruno watched and didn't interfere. Afterward, when Fat John had regained his senses, he shared a bottle of wine with them, and they all agreed he should be in charge. Things were looking up.

PinchPenny descended to the dungeons below his broken castle with a large keyring dangling in one hand. The first door opened easily enough; its iron lock was in good repair even though the wood of the door showed rot. Beyond it were another set of stairs and a second door. A copper key opened a copper lock after the right combination of buttons disarmed the traps. Another set of stairs led to a fake door with many traps. Looking through the loop on the end of a silver key, he found the hidden door and opened it. Beyond lay the Vault.

In the corner was a pile of coins. The family tradition was to add to the vault, not withdraw. A long pipe had been added to make that easy, and generations of Baron Chintzworthy had thrown extra taxes or pocket change down to this pile. No one cleaned and stacked the coins. That was menial work, and no minions would be allowed in here. He ignored the chests of wealth and magical items left to rot in the vault. What he needed was at the end on a high shelf, just as his grandfather had told him.

Opening it didn't prove easy. His hands shook, and his mouth was dry. Almost, almost he put the box back on its shelf. But he'd come this far; what was a little more? The wax seal was old and hard but melted when he used Califore's Flaming Dagger to pick out the wax. He slid back the lid and stared at the contents, moving aside the soft padding...

Much later, the Baron walked back up the stairs; the pain in his knees gone. He smelled boiled mutton and could hear people moving around his castle. As the hour for dinner approached, the boy brought up his food. He had found clean plates and a goblet somewhere and a bottle of cheap wine to go with the mutton. As PinchPenny ate, Hoss reported what he had done and detailed the state of the castle. There were details he left out, of course. The boy should have been scared, and nervous. Instead, he had a core of anger and determination in him. He'd do. Out with the old and in with the new. It was time for changes. He tossed the magical dagger in its red leather sheathe to the lad.

"Here. Take this. Consider it a bonus for work well done. Send for more mutton. I have an appetite tonight. Then tomorrow, we will talk about what needs to be done, and later this week, we will visit the nice people at Alchemarx."

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